


The Rules Don't Apply

by orphan_account



Category: Legend of the Seeker, The Sword of Truth - Terry Goodkind
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some good old Mord'Sith/Confessor smut. Two OC's of my own, set after the end of the books. Not too much plot, mostly just smut. A Confessor and her Mord'Sith reunite in the Confessor's Palace after time spent apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rules Don't Apply

           Things have changed quite a bit in the years since the Lord Rahl disbanded the Mord-Sith and turned our world upside-down,  Lyn thought as she paced down the marbled hall of the Confessors’ Palace. Her long white dress billowed out behind her; the sleeves flapped at her sides. Her long, sun-kissed brown hair swayed along the top of her hips, marking her a powerful woman. A Queen of Kings.

           She glanced over at one of the other women in the hall, a tall blonde wearing skin-tight brown leather. Her hair was done up in a tight braid that coiled around its base, but Lyn could see that it likely rivaled her own in length. The same rules did not apply to the Mord-Sith.            

Her feet tapped out a steady rhythm on the solid floor, muffled only by the leather boots she wore. The hallway, otherwise silent, easily picked up the small noises and made them seem large. She neared the doors that led to her own private chambers with a sense of relief. A tug opened the large oak doors, and she let them swing inward just wide enough for her to slip between. Due to superb craftsmanship – and likely a good deal of magic – the heavy doors swung easily, even under her fairly light touch. As they clicked into place, she heaved a small sigh and slipped the board down into the wooden cradle below it.

           A pair of arms slipped around her waist, as a body pulled itself along the delicious curve of her back. She tensed for a moment, her pupils growing in a way that suggested neither lust nor lack of light. But when a warm breath tickled her ear, she relaxed, letting her own arms rest upon the leather-clad ones that encircled her.

           “I’ve missed you, Confessor,” the breath purred into her ear. “It’s been too long.”

           She turned to face its owner, leaving the arms entangled around her waist. Her lissome lover stared back at her, meeting cerulean eyes with cinnamon ones. “I’ve missed you too, Mord-Sith.” She put a bit of tease into the title, enough to draw a slight sigh from her partner. She only laughed at the sigh, tossing her long brown mane to the side and flashing white teeth in the semi-darkness.

           One leather-gloved hand slunk up to the dark locks, entwined itself in their depths and pushing the tall woman’s head forward again. “Come here.”

           Their lips met with the passion of lovers denied satisfaction for too long. A starburst of pleasure exploded in Lyn’s gut, surprising her with its strength. She let out a small moan. Meena used this to her advantage, using her open mouth as entrance to a talented, probing tongue.

           Lyn pulled back, her breathing already fast and shallow. Meena wore her red leathers tonight, not the brown generally preferred in times of peace. She neglected to wear the neck collar and corset as she often did, leaving her chest bared and the tops of her breasts showing. Her pale skin made the scattering of freckles that clustered around the hollow at the base of her throat all the more visible. A white scar, shaped similarly to a snowflake, nestled itself in the center. Lyn loved that scar, loved the texture of it under her tongue.

           She looked up and down her lover’s body, appreciating the hourglass curves, strong hips. When she again looked into her face, she allowed her gaze to trace the bow of her tea rose lips, smiling at the freckles that managed to form on them as well.

           She withdrew the fingers she had woven together behind Meena’s back, bringing them to Meena’s hips instead. She danced them slowly upwards, playing with the ties that held the leather outfit together. Meena’s hands moved to her chest, where her own dress was held by lacing. Lyn raised her eyebrows and slowly, ever so slowly, untied the first knot on the left side.

           Meena responded in kind, pulling the first lace out of the dress.

           Bit by bit, they undid the strings that held each of them in their clothing. Both of them were breathing hard, but they kept their movements slow and steady, enjoying the suspense.

           Before long, the white dress sloughed from her sides, falling in a pool on the floor. The red leather shirt followed moments after. Lyn stepped forward and to the side, sauntering toward the bed and swishing her hips as she put her long legs to work. A black underbust corset with a skirt remained as her only clothing. This too, had lacing, but this time up the back. She turned as she reached the bed, grabbing the wooden bedposts and leaning against them sensually.

           She admired her woman, looking up and down at her toned body. For someone with almost nonexistent body fat and such toned muscles, she had impressively large breasts. They were a cream color, lined with small stretch marks on every side. Her nipples were tight and hard already, several shades darker than the surrounding skin. Her areolae wrinkled slightly as they tensed, large, perfect circles around the pebbles of her nipples.

           A rumbling, feral sound built in Lyn’s throat, a primitive wanting. Her lover took advantage of this, hooking her thumbs into the tops of her leather pants and sliding them a little lower, until the top of her dark hair became visible. Lyn’s rumbling grew louder until she said, in a voice raspy with need, “Come to me.” 

Meena’s lips quirked up to the left in a satisfied smirk. “Don’t you mean, ‘Come  for  me?’” She swaggered toward the bed as she slid her pants even lower. “I’m sure I’ll do plenty of that tonight.”

Lyn smiled, yet the expression seemed closer to a baring of teeth than a grin. “If I have anything to say about it, you will.” She took a step forward to meet the other woman, pulling their bodies together as their lips met. A soft moan escaped her as Meena’s tongue glanced across her lips. She met it with her own.

Lyn’s hands caressed soft hair, then slid down the contours of muscular flesh to trail along the tight curves of her ass. She rumbled her frustration into an open mouth when she encountered the tight leather that still remained. She bunched her fingers in the material, yanking it downward and wishing the Mord-Sith skimped more on their uniforms so she might simply tear the pants apart at the seams. They slipped to the ground and pooled at their feet.

“No fair,” her partner purred. She pulled back, tracing one finger up the Confessor’s neck. A long, elegant nail dug into soft skin, exerting just enough pressure so as to force the other woman to tilt her head back. She moved her head forward, replacing the nail with her warm breath. “If I am undressed, you should be, too.” Feather-light fingers traipsed along bare shoulders, and along the top of the fabric, where she gave a single sharp tug and was rewarded by several loops of lacing coming undone. She planted a chaste kiss on the ridges of Lyn’s trachea and felt her shiver. 

Rather than continuing to pull that laces from the corset, the Mord’Sith smoothed her hands down its length to the skin it didn’t conceal. She slid her right hand under it and between the other woman’s thighs. She smiled at the wetness she found there as she spread her hand open, suggesting that her partner’s legs do the same. They complied, with a whimper that vibrated the throat under her lips. Her lips quirked upward again as she dipped a single digit of her finger into the wet that formed there only for her. 

Lyn whined, a very un-Confessorlike sound, and tried to press herself further down onto the finger. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Meena tsked, “wait for your mistress to do that herself.” She removed her finger and trailed it down Lyn’s thigh, feeling the stretch marks that had formed when she hit puberty, filling each with a moist smear.

Her left hand moved to encircle her lover once again, where she began to deftly undo the rest of the laces. The corset peeled away from a body that was just starting to break  out in a sweat, only to be tossed across the room to land on a chair. 

Lyn whimpered again as her bare skin met the cool air of the room. A drop of sweat began to bead between her shoulderblades. She felt hot, far too hot. A pulsing had begun between her legs, and she felt a warm drip follow the path her lover had left behind her fingers. Her nipples tightened as well, erect, straining, wanting. 

Before any other, she would not allow herself to be undignified so, but all of that changed around Meena. The same rules did not apply to this Mord-sith. 

Warm puffs of breath drifted and curled around her throat. Meena held very still, not moving anything more than her lungs. 

“Stop teasing me, woman.” Lyn had meant it as a command, but the waver in her voice on the last word betrayed her arousal and her need. 

Meena only laughed and stepped away, walking with an easy stride to the other side of the bed, leaving the white expanse of the sheets between them. 

A long, lithe arm meandered its way up one of the wooden posters. The second joined it. In a flexing of muscles made powerful by the Mord-Sith lifestyle, she lifted herself off the ground to land in a crouch on the bed. “Care to join me?” she beckoned with a slight spreading of her legs. 

Regaining some of her powerful composure -- or the illusion of such -- the Queen of Kings lifted herself onto the sheets and bent forward. Meena spread her legs more in welcome, only to squeal in an undignified manner when Lyn grabbed her ankles instead, dragging her across the bed. “You. Are. Mine,” she told the supine figure below her, “All mine.” A kiss on the jaw led to a kiss on the collarbone, which led even further to a path of kisses to between breasts. Lyn flicked her tongue out and nibbled at the sensitive skin there, pleased by the sharp intake of breath from her partner that signaled her return to control.  

She dragged the nails on her right hand along the soft curve of hips, stomach, and ribs, pleased by the goose flesh that followed her fingers. The smooth motion paused as it reached the mound of one perfect breast and her lover's breath froze in her chest. She pulled the pads of her fingers over one hard nipple. Her left hand she used to brace herself as she bent to lick the other.

Meena gasped at the silky touch, one of her hands moving to pull Lyn’s head closer to her. A moan escaped her as she was rewarded by a gentle nip. She arched her back slightly, demanding more while pressing herself upward to try and create more skin-to-skin contact. T's breasts rubbed against her stomach even as her own were moistened by a roaming tongue. A rush of hot breath enveloped them as Lyn moaned.

The Confessor rested her head on a pillow of her hair and her lover's breasts for a moment, breathing deeply and feeling a coil of warmth settle inside her. 

Meena stroked the top of her head. "I've missed you," she whispered. 

Lyn sat up, meeting Meena’s eyes. "I've missed you, too." She placed a loving, tender kiss on Meena’s bow-shaped lips before sitting back again to plant a kiss on each nipple. Looking up through her eyelashes, she saw Meena close her eyes and tilt her head back against the sheets. 

A smile twisted her lips as she touched them to the Mord-Sith's navel. With a deft tongue, she traced small circles around it before working her way back upwards. She flicked it around the tight mounds of her nipples, teasing Meena by never giving her the jolting pleasure of actually touching them. 

"Please, " Meena whispered, "please." Her body arched off of the bed once again when her pleading was obliged by a swipe of the tongue over one of them. She whimpered quietly. 

Tired of remaining still and prone, she trailed her own hands to the Confessor's wide hips and along her stomach, pleased by the inhalation and pause in touch on her own breasts. She let a single finger wrap into the curly hair that began there. That finger inched its way down, seemingly of its own accord. It paused for a moment as it reached hair that was moist and slick. A smile curved along its owner’s mouth. The finger was followed by another as they slipped to touch the slippery flesh the hair concealed. 

The Confessor paused her attentions to the breasts blow her, all of her attention going to focus on the fingers that worked their way to her center. Her breath hitched as they slid over her clit and spread open her folds. Her eyes hooded as her pupils dilated. One finger dipped into her warm center and she gasped, placing both her arms on the bed to support herself. 

Pleased, Meena slipped her finger in further, until it was buried up to her knuckle. Lyn thrust against it, demanding more contact. In response, a second finger joined the first. They scissored, feeling the walls around them tighten and move. 

Lyn gasped again, thrusting her hips in time with the fingers inside of her. Her legs began to shake as pleasure pooled deep in her gut at the same time as her stomach began to tense. She tipped her head forward until her hair fell across Meena’s face. Another hard thrust, and she heaved in a deep breath that shuddered out as she came. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, deepening into a moan as her body fell still, all of her muscles straining. Pressure built in her head as her magic curled up from the pit of her stomach. She could feel her pupils swell as it grew to fill her. With a sensation like thunder without sound, it was released. A rush of warm fluid followed as her body started to relax. 

The Confessor raised her head to meet Meena’s eyes, her pupils still engorged large enough to make her irises invisible. Meena smiled back as she slowly withdrew her hands to place them on her lover’s waist, her own eyes changing from the black of one confessed to the black of one in love. 

“So much for being in control,” Lyn muttered under her breath. 

“Command me, mistress,” Meena laughed.

Lyn’s eyes narrowed at this, and with a sharp motion she brought her thigh to rest between Meena’s legs. The heat she found there drew another sharp pang of arousal to her sex. 

Meena gasped and arched her hips up, pushing into Lyn’s thigh as she did so and grinding down hard. 

Lyn smirked at the reaction, withdrawing her leg and leaving Meena to whine at the cold air that replaced it. “I command you to let me make you cum,” she said, drawing on the side of her she showed to everyone else and putting an order behind it. With that, she bent her head to the Mord-Sith’s chest, lapping at the tip of one nipple while she kneaded and rolled the other with her fingers. 

Meena’s breath hitched and rattled shakily in her chest as she pushed herself upward into the sensations. With a shaky hand, she grabbed the hand that worked at her breast, dragging it down lower in a silent plea. 

Lyn responded by fingering her slit, avoiding Meena’s clit entirely. Creamy wetness allowed her fingers to move quickly and surely, slipping over warm flesh. 

Meena’s mouth dropped open as she tilted her head back before looking back to watch as Lyn’s tongue brought pleasure coursing into her body. 

Lyn lowered her head further, tracing the lines made by tight muscles across the Mord-Sith’s abdomen. She lapped with a flat, warm tongue, leaving open-mouthed kisses the length of her torso. When her chin touched straight, short, dark hair, she lifted her head and moved down further, instead nipping the insides of Meena’s thighs. The skin there flushed red as she sucked and pulled blood to the surface. She inched her way slowly upward, letting her nose brush coarse hair as she flicked her tongue out to flick the uppermost part of the creamy thighs, feeling Meena shift as her breathing hitched again. 

With little warning, she shifted her head and dragged a flat tongue from entrance to clit, tasting the salty tang of her lover’s arousal. Meena bucked her hips once, embedding her still-moist hands in mussed hair to keep Lyn there. 

Lyn moved her tongue along engorged lips, tracing patterns and letters into the top of the folds. 

Meena panted and whimpered. “There, there,” she breathed as Lyn traced an ‘L’ with a pointed tongue. Lyn repeated the motion, tasting more wet warmth as Meena folded her legs around her shoulders, pulling her closer. 

The ‘L’ morphed into a ‘J’ and Meena pulled tight, using her legs on Lyn’s shoulders to brace herself as she arched her back, her jaw dropping open once again. Her body shook as she climaxed. 

Lyn stayed with her as she looked up through her lashes to watch the Mord-Sith’s face. Their motions slowed as Meena’s eyes opened and her muscles relaxed. Lyn straddled her legs and bent forward to kiss her softly, letting her taste her own juices. 

With languid motions, Lyn moved again to lay along her side, resting her head on the smooth flesh of one full breast. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thank  you. I love you, Lyn.” Meena said the last words with conviction, even if they were muffled by Lyn’s hair. 

A Mord-Sith couldn’t feel love. A Confessor couldn’t give it. Here, in this bed, the rules didn’t apply to either of them.

“I love you too, my dear.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first smut piece I've written, so I appreciate some feedback!


End file.
